Lounging
by purloinlarceny
Summary: Demeter, although in a marriage and trying to pass as the perfect wife, finds herself in a secret affair with Bombalurina the lounge singer. 1960s AU


As the lights dimmed to a single spotlight that illuminated the wafting cigar smoke and the din of voices quieted to below a murmur, red velvet curtains drew back and opened to a stage. Demeter leaned forward in her seat, putting out her cigarette and making sure not to elbow her water off the table. The world around her fell away as her eyes focused on the singer walking towards the black microphone at the front of the stage. She wore a black dress that was made completely of sequins that glistened like stars. her hair, full of volume and fiery red framed her face in a mane of flames. All Demeter could think was that she was beautiful.

A piano began a few minor chords before the woman on the stage began her song in a deep, smoky voice. Prolonged notes and slowly swaying hips that looked muscular and sturdy seems to cast a spell over the audience, her sharp but heavily lidded eyes watching everyone with an intensity and disdain.

Demeter glanced over at her husband, biting her lip before looking back at the singer, this was an anxiousness she had never felt before. Knee bouncing and alms perspiring, she flicked her tail in irritation While she was entranced but the song, she desperately wanted the singer to walk off stage, back to her dressing room where Demeter would follow. They would exchange names and small talk, compliment makeup or hair, share a glass of wine, the usual connections expected to be made between women. But then, the door would be locked and Demeter could almost taste the chalky lipstick of the singers mouth and smell her expensive perfume mingled with the leathery heat of the lounge.

She took a sip of water, trying to hide her state from anyone who might be watching. She had to save face, especially now in this expensive club and at her husband's side. She had heard of a friend of her husband's whose wife had come down with "hysteria" and was sent away without a second thought. Ever since then there had been fearful whispers among the wives at the office parties and in her book club of having to keep composure lest they fall prey to the patriarchal system and be locked away for acting out of line.

The moment the song ended and the lounge lights came on again and the wave of conversations grew ever louder, Demeter stood, muttering something about powdering her nose, and swiftly made her way to back of the house.

It to a moment of avoiding being shoulder and looking into cracked doors before she found the dressing room. Quietly knocking she felt her heard pounding in her chest as she waited for permission to enter. The quiet "yes?" that sounded from behind the door felt like velvet to her ears and she turned the knob.

"Can I help you?" The singer asked from her couch. She had taken off her heels and sat lounging against the arm of the loveseat, book in hand and legs curled up on the cushions.

"Yes, I wanted to compliment your singing. You were quite the spectacle tonight." Demeter had to pick her words carefully. She was in deep water and her ability to swim was subpar, having only spent her life on the shore looking pretty rather than get here a singe foot wet, even though she desperately waned to. She stepped further in the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

"Thank you, I wouldn't have guessed you let that way judging by how you seemed about to jump up and storm out any second." The singer said almost jokingly but Demeter could hear the small underlying layer of legitimate hurt.

"I didn't realize I was that obvious. I apologize." She wring her hand in anxiety, feeling the singer's cold blue eyes on her. "I was just anxious talk to you is all." She glanced at the floor, suddenly feeling vulnerable, lost, and quite embarrassed.

The singer put her book down and moved her legs so that she was sitting upright and patted the seat next to her. Demeter cautiously walked over and sat down. She could smell the floral aroma that wafted form the singer's hair as she pushed it out of her face.

"Bombalurina," she said, holding our a hand. Demeter shook it, reveling in how smooth and soft it was.

"Demeter. I do apologize if I'm at all bothering you. I don't know fully what I expected to do after I complimented your performance." She said, hoping that the embarrassment she felt wasn't showing in ruffled fur or the quaver of a voice.

"You're no bother. I don't get many visitors." Bombalurina paused, as if going over what words to say. "Especially ones so beautiful."

Demeter about jumped out of her skin. Never had she met someone so forward and open about any hint of sapphic thoughts.

"Have I read the situation incorrectly?" She asked, noticing Demeter's silence and lack of eye contact.

"No, not at all, I'm just…" She felt a hand on her thigh and looked up, Bombalurina had a small, welmbnging smile on her face.

"I understand."

Leaning forward, Bombaularina took Demeter into her arms and placed a kiss on her lips. it was simple at first, not wanting to force someone who was already uncomfortable, but soon Demeter returned the sentiment. It was short but sweet and the two women parted with warm cheeks and slightly smeared lipstick.

"We should do tea soon." Bombaularina said with a wink, kissing Demeter once more on the cheek. Demeter nodded, speechless from what had just occurred. It was as if all her dreams were finally coming true and she didn't know how to proceed. Bombalurina leaned over, grabbing a napkin and pen, wrote out her number and kissed the corner, leaving a maroon lipstick mark. Demeter took it and carefully folded it before putting it into her clutch.

They sat in silence, Demeter still somewhat stunned, and Bombalurina going back to her book, not wanting to push the woman next to her any further. Demeter's head was filled with thoughts of what was going to happen. She had wanted this, always knew she preferred the soft bosom of a woman to the harsh command of a man. But knew she would be sent away like that woman if she showed any sign of defecting from the societal norm. Her mother had warned her from a young age about home wreckers, having been bitter over her father leaving for a younger woman. A good wife was faithful to her husband, no matter what, and especially if he had money.

"If you ruin a million dollar relationship then you don't want happiness." Her mother had said while she sat on the bedroom floor, playing with her dolls and soaking in whatever commands were given to her.

She was a home wrecker, and one that fell into the hysteria category. An illegal home wrecker who didn't quite care about the consequences at that moment because she was finally getting what she wanted. A woman who showed interest.

There were many times she found herself wanting to have a hug with a friend last longer or the hem of a skirt catching her eye as it rose up above a knee as a woman sat down for dinner. Times where her friends would want to play house with her and she would want to use only female dolls, choosing to leave the less appealing male ones int he toy bin. But she never gave those nagging thoughts any mind because they were sinful and wrong and she had to have a rich heterosexual marriage as her mother instructed.

And yet here she was.

Finally, getting up on wobbly legs, Demeter gave a small wave as she wordlessly walked out of the dressing room and back to where her husband still sat in the lounge. She opened a compact as she walked, giving a small smile at the mix of dark maroon lipstick over her nude pink before reapplying the color and covering any evidence.


End file.
